Rings Of Resurrection
by Galleons 'n'Gold
Summary: I recently watched Doctor Who's fantastic episode, Rings Of Ackhteen and my muse wouldn't let me rest till I wrote this part out. Harry Potter walks into the forest to face his fate by the hands of Lord Voldemort but not before giving him a piece of his mind!


**A/N: **It all started with an episode of Doctor Who-Rings of Akhatenn, the Doctor's speech mixed with Harry Potter's scene from the forest in the book DH. Well, inspiration struck and my muse refused to let it go until I wrote it down. So here it is... Do tell me what you think of it! Speech is borrowed from Doctor Who.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

The sounds of footsteps could be heard, from a far. The frequent crunching of stones and rubble beneath his feet squished and left an imprint behind as he walked forward, slowly. It felt as if, earth marked his presence and noted his soon to be departure.

The imprints would soon fade, either by rain or just new marks on the soil. They were temporary but his departure seem to be…permanent. He was truly and utterly defeated. Everything was ruined, everything was to an end. He eyes searched desperately for company of his friends. He needed them now more than ever. In all his life, there was that silent need for a friend who would stay at his side no matter what. Friends who would say, 'It's okay' or 'shit happens' and he had found them. But he never truly revealed his most fear to anyone.

Loosing friends.

Now he wanted to cry out loud- demand their company expect them to comfort him in his time of need.

But no.

It just wasn't that easy now, especially for one Harry James Potter. His life was truly at an end. And if he truly admitted to himself, he really wanted to die.

Visions of dead bodies haunted him, weighed on his soul almost crushing him. 'Mooney' had died along with his Tonks. He almost laughed out in grief as he pictured her.

"_Don't call me Nymphadora!"_

What he would not give to hear it again, to see them again. To top it off, he had been named Godfather of their only son- Teddy Lupin. He had cherished the thought, the feeling of being someone's godfather. It were times like that, that made Harry go on. Made him feel… alive and filled with hope. That one day, the reign of Dark Lord could come to an end. There was a naive hope that maybe; just maybe he could defeat him once and for all. And they were almost succeeding in that task.

He was the last piece of the puzzle, the last Horcurx. And he had to die. Harry didn't know what would happen when the last Horcrux price would be destroyed.

No, he squelched the desire of seeing their faces one more time just in case… But no… What would they say to him?

'It's okay Harry, you can die…?'

Ridiculous! They wouldn't let him go.

A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart and lifted the hair at Harry's brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.

He had to do this… Remove the horcurx… Die.

It was for the 'Greater Good' after all. The next great adventure waited for him. He wondered for the first time in his life about various things, Dumbledore told him, subtly suggested him, reminded him time and again, the value of self-sacrifice. Just like his mother, he would now do it for his friends… in the name of love.

'You raised him like a pig for slaughter.'

The truth was indeed so true and real.

Harry accepted his role, he was playing. All the things were so much clearer in his mind, every action, every purpose Dumbledore did-to make him feel worthless. To make him value friends so high in his opinion that he would do anything and everything for them including dying for them. To make him a martyr.

Harry accepted this much. But what would happen next? Who would kill Voldemort if he died. Who would take up a mantle? Voldemort wouldn't let them live. In fact, who'd want to live a life of slavery. Worse, do his bidding?

Not him.

Dumbledore was long gone. Remus was dead. Half the order was dead. Ministry was fallen. Who would withstand the mantle of their next 'Savior.' He took a deep sigh and walked into the forbidden forest. Such a large gamble played by Dumbledore on everyone's lives. He could only hope that the gamble would play out.

He took out snitch once more and read the inscription at the middle of the ball.

'I open at the close'.

"I-" Harry's voice cracked. "I am ready to die." He said in a hushed whisper.

A chill of power radiated around him making him feel numb. But there was a rustling in the wind as he wore the ring of 'Resurrection'. The stone had Paverrel coat of arms on the black colored diamond.

The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.

He waited holding his breath for something extraordinary to happen. He really had little faith in this tale and it was no wonder to him when nothing happened.

'Master of Death, my arse.' Harry thought with a trace of sarcasm upon tons and tons of underlying grief.

With sagged shoulders, he made his way towards clearing. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock.

Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blonde Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated, and terriﬁed, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.

Every eye was ﬁxed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek.

I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping ﬂames. "I expected him to come."

Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. He hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and studded it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to ﬁght.

"I was, it seems . . . mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't." Harry said in a loud clear voice. His own voice felt so strange, so clear and yet so unemotional in the dead of silence. The death eaters did not move and each and every one of them waited in apprehension of what would occur next.

And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the splitting ﬁre. "The Boy Who Lived."

"Nothing to say now, Potter?" Mocked Lord Voldemort.

The Dementors closed the outer circle and there was absolute silence. Harry could hear his own ears ringing. The ring on his fingers vibrated and Harry could distinctly hear a soft roaring sound from everywhere and nowhere. And suddenly, Harry could feel a lone song of a child singing, cut through all the silence. It soon was accompanied by a huge chorus, invisible and yet composed of so many people, filling everywhere, layers heaved upon layers of voices singing away. He knew what they were doing here, why they had come. He just let this strange feeling course through him... in him.

He never knew he could experience so fullness in his heart and mind. Chilly winds wafted over from him making his bangs brush ever so slightly against his forehead. It didn't matter if he lived or die. No one remained, everything had died. He just wanted to tell everyone of them, the people his life story, his pain and his burden, before he departed.

Most importantly, he wanted to tell them what he did for them. Not out of spite or to be remembered but just for the sake of it. He wanted to tell Lord Voldemort exactly what he had done and all his Death Eaters exactly what he was.

"Can you feel them?" Harry said, his voice surprising light. His eyes seem to have accepted the fate.

"Can you feel them? All these people who lived in terror of you and your judgment. All these people whose ancestors devoted themselves… to fight against you. Can you feel them singing?" Harry's eyes closed in the rhythm, last part spoken only in a soft whisper. Harry instinctively knew that he was not alone and it gave him strange sense of comfort.

The song was beautiful as well as terrifying. He couldn't help but get lost in the tune.

Lord Voldemort gave a heartless smile.

"Oh, you like to think you're a God. Well, you're not a God — you're just a parasite! Eaten out with jealousy and envy, and longing for the lives of others. You FEED on them." Harry said pointing finger first at Voldemort and then at others surrounding him.

"On the memory of love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow…so…SO…come on then, TAKE mine. Take. My. Life." Harry said looking directly at Voldemort. His eyes bared his soul, his hurt so much hurt and pain mixed with the weight of a lifetime.

"Because I hope it was worth it. To kill so many, so much and feel nothing! Yet, here I stand, mourning each and every life you have taken. Each soul that has departed from the land of the living! I have been in your mind TOM! I have experience YOUR HATRED to EACH and EVERY thing around you! Including your MINIONS!" Harry said, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

"I have lived where my entire life was planned and devised by mind of a MAD MAN! And I've watched his plans crumble and burn till nothing remained. NO ONE! JUST ME! I have seen things you WOULDN'T BELIEVE AND I HAVE LOST THINGS YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND." Harry's fists were clenched, so tight that it drew blood. His face was now a pool of tears, sliding down effortlessly.

"Because you are incomplete! You are and forever will be…incomplete…" Harry said softly almost sad for Voldemort.

"So… Go on then, TAKE IT! TAKE IT ALL! HAVE IT! HAVE. MY. LIFE!" Harry raised his hands dramatically up to his shoulders, parallel to the ground.

In that moment, almost all the death eaters looked down on this one boy, who had been a constant thorn on Dark Lord's side, who had been the cause of so many crucio's, with regret. Regret at what they had done in the name of their lord. He was still, just a boy and now he was utterly and completely crumpled.

It strangly didn't bring them joy at their success but with…nothingness. His death now strangely didn't mean anything. It didn't prove anything about the greatness of their lord and they saw him, for exactly what their lord was.

And yet, they couldn't lift their wands to defend for him. No, they could just watch at the scene with strange sadness and curiosity.

"Avada Kadavra." Voldemort shouted out. Every pore of his body was charged with the energy of the spell and then, Harry Potter knew nothing more.


End file.
